Termyn8or
Posts: 18681
Joined: 11/12/2005
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I am known not to get up early, but sometimes on a Saturday .......
At like 8:30 AM I watched Up In Smoke. With no interruptions at all. No distractions no nuthin. I tried to play it last night, then my buddy's cellphone rang. I refused to restart it. I will not have it bastardized like that. Try again next time and turn that muthafuker off !
Take a piss, roll one and make sure you have whatever beverage in front of you you might need.
Cheech and Chong were great, I can't think of much more entertaining stuff out there to this day. If you watch Cheech and Chong here, there will be no interruptions.
Thing that gets me is it is in widescreen and with better sound than I have ever heard, even on beta hifi. Of course I suppose there was a widescreen version since it did play in the theaters, so that makes sense.
It kinda killed me when Cheech went straight, that is started playing a cop. You see my crowd used to do into a basement and dump a quarter pound on the pool table. The bar had so much stereo equipment on it you couldn't sit at it. Room was like 35' by 25' and some of us didn't leave for a week. The walls were black so if somebody got out of hand the blood didn't show.
And if someone got popped they usually didn't leave. Say you do something stupid and then "Hey, what the fuck did you deck me for ?", "You did this bla bla bla", "Oh". Most people took it in stride and stuck around, really the only beatings going on were to restore order. When you get a bunch of people together all buzzed and drunk, shit happens. Generally minimal force was used, but there are exceptions.
And then there's this one guy they insisted on hanging by his feet from the rafters. Every once in a while I would go there and ther he would be hanging upside down. I could say "What's up Pete ?", and he could say "Looks like down is up now".
We were young, bad to the bone and out for a good time. It was pretty much like Cheech and Chong. We were all practically indestructible at the time, and totally nuts. This place, this secret place was so secret that they had a party with TWO live bands at the same time. One in the basement and one on the second floor. There were about 20 Harleys parked out front as well. It was great. I couldn't think of a better time, except the Cheech and Chong movies.
Each such party would require a brand new garbage can which was then washed scrupulously for the punch. And the punch had a punch. You don't even want to know how much the PGA cost (Pure Grain Alcohol, which we had to leave the state to buy, it was illegal in Ohio) But then some people gots family down thar.
When it wasn't party time I was there every other day to work out and spar. I got kicked across that 35' room and ran back up and said "Do it again". I got witnesses. But see we were sparring and part of that is learning how to take it. To win a fight first of all you don't usually start it. And when it starts that means you got hit, that is precisely the time to stay in control. Respond, do not react. That is what we learned, together, our little crowd.
I never got all that tough, but I got to the point where the only time I really had my ass kicked, it took three dudes to do it. But my sparring partner was something else. I don't fuck with this guy, and as imperfect as he is, he was like a dojo to me. I mean I don't fuck with this guy physically on a serious level. Not without a gun, no way. I have seen this guy take hits that would've floored me, and I have never went down except for the time with the three guys.
I almost think you could hit this guy in the face with a baseball bat and you should run. And kicking me across the room ? Yup, but realize, up until I was 44 I could have a 200 lb. person stand on my chest as I layed on the floor, SMOKING A CIGARETTE. A few years ago I coughed and broke about five ribs doing that, so I stopped. But training with this dude wasn't the whole story. That started when I was young, when my Mom started punching me in the stomach, at random. I don't know how she figured it out or who told her to do that, but it did the trick.
It started slow, light punches that really didn't hurt, but you felt it. Sort of a wind thing. IOver the years the punches get harder and harder and one learns to maintain proper posture with Mom. That means a stout frontside. Years go by and she really starts laying in but you are ready for it. Ummm, I just thought of something, this usually happened in the kitchen. Hmmm, usually when she was cooking.
So she made it a game, her fist against my muscles. This was in no way a punishment. You don't want to hear about punishment, that Woman had a way to cut your throat out with words. Still does actually.
Anyway, eventually we got to the point where I told her to wail on me, and she pummeled me on the stomach until her hands hurt. Mom and I almost always got along well, afterwards we sat down and she said "That felt good". I knew full well that she meant 'I got my frustrations out on you , you little prick'. But that was fine. It was better than a tantrum.
Don't look at the wall, everybody in here has had at least one tantrum in their life. If you don't admit it it is because you don't remember it. In fact, I almost thing that it is simply part of the process of growing up. You stop having them later.
You see, I could see Up In Smoke actually happening except for one thing. The van made out of weed. Absolutely everything else I see as plausible. Maybe not the dogshit weed, or a couple of other things too, but it could happen. Now I contradict myself. I will let it stand, know why ?
Because it is Saturday.
And because it is Saturday I got up three hours early to watch Cheech and Chong. And nobody called or anything, everybody thought I was sleeping. HA HA.
Have a good Saturday and be well.
T
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